


Love Nest

by quartetship



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Moving In Together, This fic has it all.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: There was a little yellow house that sat in the middle of one of Derry’s quiet, residential streets...(A portrait of two boys, one house, and the love that makes it a home.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 279





	Love Nest

**Author's Note:**

> This work was heavily inspired by the beautiful artwork of [SAMH0UND ](https://twitter.com/SAMH0UND)/[THED0GARTS ](https://twitter.com/THED0GARTS). Also inspired by a sweet little house in the neighborhood where I grew up. I like to imagine these two would live somewhere like that, happy for the rest of their lives. :')
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!
> 
> \--

There was a little yellow house that sat in the middle of one of Derry’s quiet, residential streets. 

It was a charming little place, with soft colors and pretty, white columns that framed its doorway. The triangular shape of the house's front was accented with a small balcony that crowned a glass door on the home's second floor like an exquisite necklace. Flower beds punctuated the neatly-groomed lawn, and window box planters made the whole place look alive and beautiful in the greener months of the year. 

It was a home that Eddie Kaspbrak took note of, even as a young teenager. He took note of it, mostly because Richie Tozier made a point of talking about it every time their school bus passed it. 

“One of these days, Eds. We're gonna buy that house, you and me. We're gonna live there and plant flowers in the garden and drink tea on the porch and just. Fuckin’ live life. It's gonna be great.” 

Those were the kind of promises Richie made nearly every day. It didn't matter much that they were on a bus where anyone could hear them. Eddie was careful not to give anyone else a reason to think of Richie's boasting as anything more than a joke. Even if a foolish little voice in the back of his mind insisted that there was more to it. 

“You do know there are people living there right now, right?” he said, doing his best to sound unimpressed. “Like, you can't just walk up to their door and ask to buy their house.” 

“You also can't buy a house when you're thirteen fuckin’ years old, Eds. Doesn't stop me from dreamin’. Besides,” Richie continued, “By the time I'm old and rich and shit, those people will have probably kicked the bucket and I'll be free to buy you that house.” 

“Oh, so now you're buying it for me?” Eddie mused. Richie nodded. 

“Yeah. ‘Course I am. I'll pay all the bills with my incredibly lucrative career and you can stay home and bake cookies all day.” 

“Like hell,” Eddie huffed. When Richie let a hand fall into his hair, he wriggled out from under it. “I'm not baking shit. I'll just buy cookies on my way home from my  _ job.”  _

“Ohoho, so you're gonna be a working girl, huh?” Richie grinned, lopsided and too wide for his face. “That's fine by me, Eddie, my love. As long as you're coming home to me at night.” 

Eddie groaned, but only to keep the smile that threatened to spread across his face at bay. Fuck, Richie knew exactly how to get under his skin. 

“Talk to me when we're actually old enough to invest in real estate,” he said, trying to sound like it didn't matter to him at all. “Right now you're a punk ass that can't afford new shit for your bike.” 

“Damn,” Richie grumbled, though he was still smiling. “Guess I'll have to tell Mom and Dad to increase the old allowance so I won't get bitched at so hard by my future spouse.” 

“Yeah, you tell ‘em that,” Eddie snorted. “Word for word.” 

The bus pulled past the corner of the block and the house disappeared from view. Still, the image of its warmly lit windows and cheerful flowerbed lingered in Eddie's mind the rest of the night. 

\--

It’s thirty years later, and Eddie returns to Derry. 

He's older now, and he would like to think he's wiser. Yet when he sees Richie Tozier for the first time since their childhood, the feelings in his chest are anything but wise. 

Has Richie always been so strangely magnetic? Has Eddie always wanted to gingerly straighten his collar and punch him and  _ kiss _ him, all at once? Eddie can't remember - he can't remember much from his life before he turned eighteen. But he remembers now that Richie was a big part of it. 

Eddie suddenly wishes Richie had never stopped being part of his life. 

Richie takes a shot holding the glass with nothing but his mouth and Eddie is both disgusted and enraptured. He can't look away from this broad-shouldered, loudmouthed idiot sitting at the table with the rest of them. Thankfully, his mouth doesn't betray that fact. 

“Yeah, what's so fuckin’ funny, dickwad?!” he demands, when Richie asks him with a grin if he got married. Eddie tries not to notice the way Richie's grin falters when Eddie elaborates that, yes, he is indeed married - and to a woman. 

Surrounded by his old friends, Eddie almost can't imagine why he got married. His life back home with Myra seems like a faraway concept now, a dream that he's waking from.

“So, what about you, Trashmouth?” Bill asks. “Are you married?” 

Eddie watches with the rest of them as Richie says he is, and for a moment Eddie's heart drops in a way he isn't expecting and can't really explain. 

Then Richie is making fun of his mom and everyone is laughing and there's a strange nostalgia that is all at once old and new. Beverly calls a toast and conversation keeps moving. 

If only it had stayed that way. 

It's only a few more minutes before the night dissolves into chaos. 

Mike lied to them. When Eddie realizes it, he wants to run. He wants to leave as quickly as he can. It does something to his heart - as unexplainable as everything else in this God forsaken town - when Richie is just as quick to want to go. 

Even the familiar way he talks to Eddie in the parking lot, at the inn, every step of the way makes his chest feel both heavy and light in confusing turns. He wants to leave and never look back at this town. He wants to leave, but he also never wants to be away from these people - from Richie - ever again. 

In the end, he stays. God, he can't even explain why he does, but Beverly tells them about her prophecies and he  _ believes _ it. A week ago, he would have laughed at himself. But here he is, ready to fight alongside a group of people he hasn't seen since his youth against some kind of demon clown thing that is probably going to kill them all. He's an idiot. 

With the other Losers, though - with Richie - he feels a little less like one.

\--

The memories are not the worst part of being back in Derry. 

Feeling them wash over him in unexpected places and at unpredictable times makes Eddie feel almost nauseous. He remembers his childhood, his strange relationship with his mother, the way his youth was stolen from him by paranoia and fear and a fucking  _ clown.  _ But the memories aren't what hurts. It's knowing that he left it all behind, forgetting all that it taught him - forgetting everyone who helped him through it. 

The images that return to him from his childhood are all filled with Richie. Eddie was friends with all of them, certainly. But Richie was a constant, a force that moved through Eddie's life like a natural disaster that never stopped. He was always there, toppling Eddie's expectations, pushing aside fear and doubt, making Eddie feel brave and shy in turns that were dizzying - and yet Eddie could never get enough. 

He remembers them as children, the way he cared so much about what Richie thought. He thinks about discarded shower caps and a too-small hammock and fights that always ended in laughter as one of them was flipped out of it. He calls to mind the way Richie never failed to make him smile, despite usually making him roll his eyes in the process. 

God, he was so gone on Richie Tozier. 

Somehow, though, life had stolen those memories from him along with everyone else he left behind in Derry. 

\--

When they return to the house on Neibolt, Eddie can't really think of anything he wants less. The others are right, though; they have no choice but to follow through with their promise to one another and to the rest of the world. It just really fucking sucks being one of the handful of people with that on your shoulders. 

Richie nearly dies. He's attacked by the demon within minutes of their arrival, and Eddie is frozen with fear. He doesn't do much better as they draw closer to the heart of the monster's lair, but Richie is always beside him, reminding him that he's stronger, better,  _ braver _ than he believes he is. 

Eddie is struck with the realization that it’s always been this way - for all of his faults, Richie has always brought out the best in him. He wishes the two of them had time to talk, to catch up, to maybe be something more to one another than soldiers in the same war. 

But there isn’t time, at least not now. 

He settles for the feeling of Richie’s hand gently pressed to the small of his back. 

When Richie is caught in the deadlights, Eddie has to make a choice. He elects to believe everything Richie has told him - things he can't even remember, but somehow still holds in his heart - and jumps. The fencepost-turned-spear leaves his hand as he screams defiantly. He will not shrink back. 

The creature shrieks, hit deadon. Eddie is almost gleeful, still shaking with relief when he kneels in front of Richie, shaking him awake. When Richie's dark, shiny eyes reappear, Eddie laughs in impulse, on instinct because those eyes have always lit his. 

Suddenly Richie's face is frightened and severe, and he's reaching for Eddie to pull him out of the way - but it's too late. Eddie sees more than feels the pierce of the stinger as it impales his torso. By the time the pain sets in, shock overtakes it and he looks down at Richie, desperate for the help his friend has always offered. 

Richie is covered in blood spatter - Eddie's - and is shocked and stammering. Eddie gets one good look at him before the monster throws him around the cave, then down a small embankment. 

It isn't until Eddie's back hits the ground that the pain becomes overwhelming. He can hardly breathe, can't move on his own. He's going to die; he knows immediately. It's a little easier to accept when Richie and the others surround him. 

He cracks a joke - a stupid fucking joke - with Richie before he goes, because that's just what feels right. Richie doesn't laugh, only worries over him and strips himself of his jacket to press it over the place where Eddie is wounded. He stays with Eddie, listening to him talk and hovering protectively until he is needed by the others. 

When Richie walks away, Eddie knows it's for the last time. He holds his jacket close, squeezing it in his fingers, a last comfort in his final moments. 

Then, there is silence. Darkness. Nothing for what might be a second or might be several hours. Maybe even days. Eddie has no way to know. But eventually, it breaks - everything is incredibly loud and seems to be happening all at once - and then his eyesight returns as well. 

“Eddie? Eddie?!” he hears. It's coming from many places at once. The only voice he hears is Richie's. 

“Eds, can you move?” Richie asks, all but scooping him off the ground. “Can you stand?” 

Eddie reaches down to touch the place where his stomach is nothing but a hot, gaping hole - and he finds it entirely unmarred. 

“Wh-What?” he wonders aloud, confused as he presses harder. There is no break in the skin as far as he can tell, no deep gash that is sure to be the death of him. It's as if nothing ever happened; Eddie's eyes go wide and he looks up at Richie. 

“It's gone? I'm not - It's  _ gone?!”  _

“I think - Because we killed It - Maybe,” Richie stammers, clutching Eddie to him as the walls of the cave around them shake and begin to crumble. “Eddie, we have to move. Hold onto me.” 

Eddie does as he's told, feet not touching the ground again until after they make it through the water. When they're outside again, he finally feels like he can breathe again - has he been holding his breath this whole time? - as they watch that terrifying house and the history it holds collapse in on itself. 

Richie captures Eddie in a hug and doesn't let go. The others follow suit. They stand there, wrapped up in one another, six sets of tears and relieved laughter and triumphant shouts as the sunrise breaks beyond them, incandescent in its glow as it lights the world they’ve won. 

\--

“I've got to go back to Chicago,” Richie tells him the next day. Eddie expects it, of course; he has a home and a wife and a job to return to himself, assuming he hasn't been divorced or fired in the time he's been gone. Still, hearing Richie say he's leaving hits Eddie in the chest in a way that it probably shouldn't. 

“Yeah,” he says, because what else is he supposed to say? He moves to shake Richie's hand, but Richie pulls him into a hug - holds him there like he doesn't want to let go, either - and Eddie finally cracks. He cries and Richie does, too. But it doesn't matter. They are adults with lives that don't include one another, no matter how much they want them to. 

“It's been so good, seeing you,” Eddie tells him. It's the truth, but not all of it. He can't even be sure what the whole truth is, but he knows damn well it's more than he can bear to speak aloud. Richie nods, wiping his watery eyes with the back of his hand and flashing Eddie a lopsided grin that makes Eddie's heart ache. 

“You too, Eddie Spaghetti,” he laughs. They look at one another for a moment longer, and then Richie is squeezing Eddie's hand like a final farewell, and he's leaving. 

Eddie waits until Richie is fully out of sight to cry again. 

\--

On his way out of town, Eddie decides to take a final drive around the city’s edge. He has forgotten so much, lost so much to the unstable sands of the hourglass. It won't hurt to take one final look back at his life before adulthood. 

Everything is much the same as he increasingly remembers. The big water tower, the aging buildings, the street lights that hardly function in daylight. It's all familiar and foreign at once. 

And there, in the heart of a quiet, well-groomed little residential street, sits a charming yellow house. 

Eddie cries for most of the journey home. 

\--

He is back in New York for less than a month before he can't take it any longer. 

“I want a divorce,” he tells Myra. Her face is a mixture of horror and anger that reminds him too much of his mother and sours his stomach. She screams at him, asks if there's someone else, blames him for every problem they've ever had. 

But in the end, he leaves with his dignity and a few suitcases. The rest, she will mail to him, once he finds a new place. 

Eddie checks into a hotel for a week and begins weighing his options. None of them sound good, but anything sounds better than living in a marriage and a life that suddenly feels like someone else's. 

Myra only calls him begging for reconciliation a handful of times before finally giving up. 

\--

Eddie goes back to Derry. 

It's stupid. He knows. He didn't even like living there as a child; he doesn't know why he expects to like it any better as an adult. Still, something about the tiny town draws him back - draws him home. 

He starts looking through real estate listings on his second day in town. 

\--

A small rental home is fine for a while, he thinks. He has almost settled on one, close to the center of town and far enough away from the noise of schools and police stations to grant him some solitude, when a familiar looking property comes onto the market. 

The little yellow house is for sale. 

Eddie swallows the tight feeling in his throat when he sees it. Part of him thinks of getting ahold of Richie to tell him - God, what an idiot he would sound like - but he thinks better of it. 

He doesn't have Richie's number, anyway. 

Eddie mourns the fact that he didn't think to ask for the other Losers’ contact information before they parted ways. He figures maybe he'll find them on Facebook or something equally banal. That's all they are to each other, anymore - people that used to know one another. Fond but faint memories. 

Still, when he calls to inquire about the little yellow house and finds that it is well within his price range, he puts in an offer. 

He goes to sleep that night satisfied with that, at least. 

\--

“You've been outbid.” 

His real estate agent says it like it's no big deal, and to her, it probably isn't. This is just another Tuesday morning in her life. For Eddie, though, it feels like a personal affront - an attack on the bittersweet future he thought he had guaranteed himself. 

“Well, raise my bid, then,” he says in reply. She clicks her tongue and asks if he's sure - this property isn't worth much more than he had bid previously - but Eddie insists. 

She does as he asks, and he is glad for the money he has stashed away and his immaculate credit score. 

\--

Neither Eddie's money nor his credit help, in the end. 

“The other bidder counter-offered,” his agent tells him. When Eddie tells her to raise his own offer once again - by five digits, this time - she is hesitant. Eddie is steadfast. 

She calls him again that same afternoon with bad news. 

“The other buyer must really want this house, Mr. Kaspbrak,” she informs him. “They're offering a bid with no top; they said they can beat anything offered and are willing to wait out this game you two have gotten into. We're backed into a corner. There's really nothing I can do, at this point. The seller has already tentatively accepted their offer.” 

“This is fucking bullshit,” Eddie snaps, though he's not really angry with her. “Is the seller still in the home? Is the other buyer local? I want to talk to these people.” 

She sighs on the other end of the line. “I can ask for a meeting, but they absolutely don't have to grant you one.” 

“Please do,” he says sharply, then, softer, “It… This house means a lot to me. I don’t know if I can explain why. I would just like the chance to try to do so for this other bidder.”

“Understood,” his agent says, though he knows she doesn't. There's no way she ever could. 

Eddie hangs up and waits for another call, hopeful. 

\--

It's the next day before he hears back from her. 

“The seller is meeting with the other bidder today at noon,” his agent says carefully. “They said you could come by in the interest of placing a final bid, but I don't think it's going to go the way you're hoping it will.” 

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes. He's already pacing in his hotel room, trying to decide what to say by the time they hang up. 

\--

When Eddie arrives, there is only one car in the driveway. The older woman who greets him asks for his name, and Eddie immediately begins his rehearsed speech. 

“My name is Eddie Kaspbrak. I was the first bidder to put in an offer on your home. I'm sorry that it's become something of a contest between myself and someone else.” 

“I'd love to settle it amicably,” she sighs, “But I can only sell my house one time.” Eddie nods. 

“I understand, ma'am. I just… I was hoping to tell you a little bit more about why I wanted to purchase the house. I may not have an unlimited budget, but I am willing to give you far more than fair market value - and the home means a lot to me, personally.” 

The elderly woman chuckles. “I wish I had known that this house was going to be so popular,” she says. “I would have listed it years ago.” 

“I'm so glad you didn't, though,” Eddie tells her. She smiles. 

“I hope that you and the other boy can come to some kind of agreement on who should put in the final bid,” she tells him. “I don't feel right choosing between the two of you when you both seem to want the property so much. He's due any time now. Why don't you stay and talk to him?”

Eddie agrees, though he feels less and less hopeful as the minutes tick by. This other person has an unlimited budget. They don’t care enough to even show up to this meeting on time. God, they're probably going to waltz in, laugh in Eddie's face about his stupid little memories with a friend he'll never see again and buy the house right out from under him. 

Eddie suddenly feels like he might be sick. 

It's nearly fifteen minutes later when another car finally pulls into the driveway to put him out of his misery. 

“You're a bit late,” the kindly old woman laughs, opening the front door. The laughter that greets her in response has Eddie's head turning on reflex. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” the other man says. His voice is familiar, laced with the constant threat of laughter and an airy tone that Eddie thinks he would know blindfolded. The guy sighs as he speaks and Eddie nearly faints. “My flight was just a little bit late touching down and then I had to stop by the rental place. Did you say someone else was-”

“Richie?” Eddie says, just to make sure he's not out of his mind. Richie -  _ Richie fucking Tozier _ \- stops mid-sentence and looks at him, jaw dropping like he's seen something truly frightening. 

His jaw snaps back up audibly and he grins a beat later, eyes wide and bright and almost wild. 

“Eddie?  _ Eds?!”  _

“Oh, so you two know each other!” the little old woman chirps. “Good, good. How about I leave you two to talk things over while I run to the bank?” 

“That's - Yes, thank you, ma'am,” Eddie stammers, eyes not leaving Richie's face. Richie's own eyes are searching Eddie much the same way, as he stands frozen in the doorway. 

“Be back shortly, dears,” the woman says, patting each of their arms before she departs. When the door clicks closed behind her, Richie jumps like he's been in a trance. 

“Eddie, what - How are you here?!” he demands. Eddie laughs. 

“I could ask you the same question.” 

“Okay, fair,” Richie says. He's grinning like he can't stop and Eddie's heart is hammering at the sight of it. “For the record, I'm here to buy this house.”

“That makes two of us,” Eddie says. Richie blinks, staring back at him in disbelief. 

“You - So you're the other guy? The dude that's been a thorn in my fucking side, trying to buy this place?” At that, Eddie snorts. 

“Looks like it, yeah. I'll be honest, I came here ready to beg or fight for this house. Now, I'm not sure what to do.” 

Richie stares at him for a long moment. Eddie feels like the air has left his lungs as he watches his face, waits to see what he'll say, what he'll do. In the end, Richie shakes his head and scrubs his face, the direct opposite of eloquence, as always. 

“God, Eds. I can't believe this. I've… I've had alerts set up for this place since we left. A few months ago.” 

“I saw it then, too,” Eddie confesses. “When I left Myra, I thought-”

“You left your wife?” Richie cuts in. Eddie nods. 

“It… I couldn't pretend anymore. I wasn't - Sorry, I know you probably don't give a shit about any of this, but - I wasn't happy and I felt like I barely knew her. After we all came back here and then left again-”

“You felt like you left yourself behind here,” Richie finishes. Eddie stares at him before slowly nodding. Richie swallows loud enough to hear, six feet away. 

“I felt the same way,” he says. “I took a break from touring. I haven't done a single show, since we left here. I just… I feel like I remembered myself while I was here. I had to come back.” 

“Me too,” Eddie says. His chest feels tight; if nothing else, Richie understands. If nothing else, he's seeing him, talking to him again. It's more than he ever expected. 

“You know what else I remembered, while we were back here?” Richie asks. Eddie isn't sure which of them moved, but they're standing just a few feet apart, now. Eddie shakes his head; Richie takes another step closer. 

“I remembered a promise I made when I was a little thirteen-year-old punk,” he says. Eddie's breath catches in his throat. “I remembered looking out a bus window every day after school and seeing this cute little house and promising an even cuter boy that I was gonna buy it for us one day.” 

Richie is within arm's length now. He doesn't move any closer, but Eddie suddenly really wishes he would. What he does instead is look around the interior of the home, stripped down and nearly empty, then back at Eddie with a fond grin. 

“We were just kids,” Eddie laughs, because he can hardly believe what he's hearing. Richie nods, then shrugs. 

“So then, what were you doing, buying this house?” he asks. Eddie can feel heat flush his face, his ears, his neck. He smiles in spite of it. 

“I needed a place to live. And… Maybe I wanted to feel like a kid again.” 

At that, Richie beams. 

“Eds, let me buy you this house and I'll make you feel like a kid every day of your life.” 

The wistful fluttering that has been tickling Eddie's stomach bursts into his chest, blooming into a raucous, rambunctious riot behind his ribs. When Richie's hand falls onto his shoulder, he reaches up to curl fingers over it. 

“Mm, I don't know. Maybe I don't want to feel like a kid all the time.” 

Richie nods, letting Eddie pull him closer, a few small steps at a time. 

“Of course, yeah. Thankfully, I'm a man of many talents. I can make you feel like a kid when you want to, or take things down a more…  _ adult _ route, when you're in the mood.” He raises his eyebrows in a way that is probably supposed to be sexy. It just makes Eddie burst into a bout of giggles like he hasn't had since he was a kid - probably in response to this same beautiful idiot. 

“God, you're just as corny as you always were,” he says, breathless from laughter. This time, he steps right into Richie's space. He smooths Richie's collar, giving his hands something to do while he stares up at Richie's spreading grin. “And I like it as much as I always did.” 

“Yeah?” Richie asks, hands finding their way to Eddie's waist. Eddie nods. 

“Yeah. Now,” he says, gathering himself up taller and pressing his body close to Richie's. “I think maybe you should kiss me or something before you buy me a house. And I’m still not gonna bake any cookies.” 

“Eds, there is no part of that deal that doesn't involve me winning,” Richie says, before losing himself for a moment. “I just - I can't believe - Holy fucking shit, Eddie, its  _ you _ and you're  _ here!” _ he muses, and the earnestness in his voice tugs at Eddie's heart. Before he can say something equally humorous, Richie is stealing his words and his every coherent thought with a kiss Eddie has waited thirty years for. 

“Move in with me?” Richie asks when they part. Eddie laughs against his lips, catching and kissing them again, lingering in the feeling of it before answering him. 

“Shouldn't you take me on a date first?” he teases, although he absolutely knows his answer. 

“I'll take you to lunch,” Richie offers. “Then we can buy a house together. Square deal?” 

“Sounds perfectly insane,” Eddie grins. Their lips meet again and Eddie is fairly certain they don't part until they hear the car tires of the little old lady who owns the home pulling against the gravel of the driveway. 

When she walks in, Richie seems to have trouble keeping his hands to himself. Eddie can't help smiling. 

“Did we come to an agreement?” she asks them, her voice hopeful. 

Richie answers for them. 

“I think we're gonna go to lunch and hash out the details,” he says. “But I think we've got a solution everyone can live with.” 

“Wonderful,” she says, clapping her hands. 

Eddie nods, catching Richie's eye and grinning. 

Wonderful, indeed. 

—

They have to drive several miles out of Derry to find somewhere decent to eat. 

Part of the problem is that they keep having to pull over. Kissing behind the wheel is rather frowned upon, and now that the dam has broken between them Eddie can’t possibly be expected to keep his hands to himself. Or his mouth. 

Every time they almost come to an agreement on something, one of them pulls the other across the front of the car by his collar or his sleeve and they’re kissing again, forgetting to talk at all. 

In the end, they settle on a little local diner with signs outside for pancake breakfasts all day long. 

“Do you remember when we were kids and we would have eating contests with the Losers?” Richie asks, sliding into a bright red booth. Eddie's mind is suddenly flooded with the memory, the sounds of laughter and the smell and taste of Richie's mother's delicious home cooking. He allows himself to bathe his senses in it all for a moment and smiles, nodding. 

“I do now. You always won.” 

“Ben gave me a damn good run for my money, though,” Richie concedes. Eddie nods. 

“Mike, too. I distinctly remember him beating you with the hot dogs.” 

“He cheated, thank you very much,” Richie says. He flashes their waitress a delighted smile when she brings a basket of complimentary fried pickles to their table. Eddie only cringes a little when Richie grabs a fistful, shoving them in his mouth and talking all the while. “Not my fault he's good at shoving wieners in his mouth.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “You are quite literally on a date with a man, right this very second.” 

Richie nods, chasing his pickles with half his drink in a single gulp. 

“Yeah. Are you saying this date is gonna end with wieners in  _ my _ mouth?” he asks, loud enough that Eddie kicks him under the table for it. Richie snorts into his glass as he takes another drink. 

After the waitress brings their food and shimmies away again, Eddie leans forward, voice low enough that only Richie can hear it. 

“Maybe one, if you learn to behave in public.” 

Richie's smile bursts wide across his face, eyes sparkling in a way that makes Eddie feel lightheaded. He laughs under his breath. 

“Shit. I'm fucking screwed, then.” 

\--

They eat one round of pancakes and order a second, which Richie tears into with far too much enthusiasm. They gossip about Ben and Beverly and wonder aloud if Bill and Mike might be worth gossiping about, too. They laugh and they act like teenagers and Eddie has never enjoyed lunch so much in his life, even if his stomach is far too full by the end. 

Richie watches him the whole time they sit together, enraptured, like he's taking in a piece of art. Every time Eddie looks back at him, it makes him wonder what Richie sees in him - but if Eddie is glowing half as beautifully as Richie is, maybe he understands. 

“You’re still so fucking cute,” Richie says, all softness and warmth. Eddie flusters. 

“As if I was cute before. I’m definitely not at nearly forty.” 

“I beg to differ,” Richie says, far too sincerely. “Besides, you were surely cute at twenty and thirty, too. I just wasn’t there to tell you. So, I’m catching up now.” 

At that, Eddie’s face feels pleasantly hot. He can’t stop himself grinning, so he throws a neatly cut piece of pancake at Richie instead of trying. Richie retaliates. 

It’s the dumbest thing Eddie can remember doing - and also the most fun. 

They leave soon after, hand in hand and laughing, before they can be asked to. 

—

“Come to my hotel with me for a bit, will you?” Richie asks, head turned away from Eddie to look over his shoulder as they back out of their parking spot at the little diner. Eddie hums with laughter. 

“On the first date?” 

Richie looks back at him and grins. “Yeah, well, I've got like twenty-some years of dates to make up for. Plus, I distinctly remember you promising something about wieners in my mouth.” 

“God, if you don't quit saying that I am never going to let you so much as  _ see _ my dick,” says Eddie, though he's trying hard not to laugh again. 

Richie nods, a wide palm coming to rest on high on Eddie's thigh, squeezing. It's enough to catch Eddie off guard - and catch his breath in his throat. 

“I'll be good,” Richie promises. Eddie wonders how far it is to the hotel. 

\--

Richie makes good on his promise, after a fashion. 

If by “being good”, he had meant he would hit his knees for Eddie the moment they closed his hotel door, he is  _ incredibly _ well behaved. 

The neediness in Richie's movements set Eddie's head to spinning; he's never been so obviously and outwardly  _ desired _ before. He's had sex - he's been married, for God's sake - but nothing he has ever experienced compares to even the smolder in Richie's eyes as he looks up at Eddie from where he is knelt and whispers, “May I?” 

Eddie's overeager nod isn't enough to break the spell of the moment, thankfully. Richie makes quick work of undoing the catch of his pants and sliding them down. He stares at the way Eddie is already beginning to fill out, obvious behind the thin material of his underwear, and licks his lips. Then he reaches into his own back pocket. 

Richie's hair has grown since they last saw one another in Derry. It looks like he hasn't cut it since. When he loops an elastic around it in quick, practiced motions and looks back up at Eddie with equal parts amusement and blistering confidence in what he's about to do, Eddie's throat feels too tight. 

“That shouldn't have been so fucking hot,” he says, and Richie grins even wider. 

“If you like it up I'll never take it down again,” he says, his voice sing-song and teasing. Still, the way he seems to bask in Eddie's attention is fucking adorable and somehow sexy at the same time. Eddie will never figure him out. 

“Might wanna wash it once in a while,” Eddie huffs, trying to regain control of the moment. Richie laughs and it bolsters his confidence. He reaches down and cups Richie's face long enough for Richie to relax into the touch before Eddie tightens his grip, just a little. “And your face too, after I come all over it.” 

The way Richie's eyes flutter closed at the promise keeps Eddie from feeling like an absolute idiot for saying it. Richie is into this. Richie is into  _ him.  _

Eddie strokes a thumb over Richie's cheek before nudging at his glasses. 

“Keeping these on?” 

Richie nods. “Wanna be able to see what I'm doing,” he says on a breathy laugh. “And I've waited like forty years to suck your dick, I wanna remember the moment.” 

Eddie finally loses his composure, snorting with laughter. “You did not come out of the womb wanting to suck my dick, Richie.” 

“I did, though,” Richie insists. “I was  _ born _ for this shit.” He leans forward, nosing against the join of Eddie's thighs, urging them apart slightly so he can mouth at where Eddie is now fully hard and straining against the fabric. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. He pushes at Richie's shoulder enough to get his attention. 

“Come up here for a second,” he says, offering Richie a hand. Richie does as he's told but gives Eddie a questioning look, one that is quickly wiped from his face when Eddie kisses him, hard and deep. Eddie draws it out, bites Richie's sweet, soft bottom lip as he pulls back and whispers against his mouth, “Just wanted to kiss you one more time before you get gross.” 

“Oho, you gonna make me gross?” Richie taunts, shrugging his open button-up from his shoulders. He strips the undershirt off just as quickly, returning his eyes to where Eddie is grinning back at him. 

“Only if that's what you want,” Eddie answers, giving Richie very intentionally innocent puppy dog eyes. Richie  _ moans _ in reply, falling to his knees again. 

“God, Eds, I've wanted this forever. I'll take it however the fuck you wanna give it to me.” 

The way Eddie wants to give it to him involves Richie never leaving his sight again, staying beautifully naked with that messy hair tied back and on his knees for the rest of their natural lives, but that's not exactly practical. Instead, he opts to enjoy the moment while he's got it. They have plenty of time for more - Richie promised. 

“Show me how long you've wanted it,” Eddie ventures. Richie makes him feel so brave, so free, so  _ sexy _ as he peels his underwear off, slow and deliberate. 

He feels even more so when Richie pushes him backward onto the edge of his hotel bed and sinks his mouth halfway down Eddie's cock in one desperate, fluid motion. 

“Fuck, Richie!” Eddie gasps, startled. Richie has the nerve to chuckle around his mouthful and the way it vibrates down Eddie's length has his eyes shuttered closed within seconds. 

Richie isn't shy, once he starts. Sighing when he draws back to better see what's doing, he wraps long, thick fingers around the base of Eddie's cock. He doesn't quite stroke him, just holds those fingers tight around the base, the rest of his wide hand brushing lower over sensitive skin. It isn't until Eddie's cock is beginning to  _ drip _ , slick from Richie's eager mouth moving over him that Richie finally starts to move his fingers. 

“Oh, Ri-  _ holy fuck, _ Richie,  _ God _ that's - Please don't stop,” Eddie stammers, already losing himself. He grabs wildly at the hem of his own shirt and pulls it up and over his head, throwing it carelessly across the room. Richie wastes no time trailing open hands over his hips, up his sides and back down. 

“Sorry,” Richie says, pulling back to drag his lips and tongue over the head of Eddie's cock. He returns his fingers to the tight little circle he had made there a moment before, stroking this time with agonizingly slow, steady movements. “Saw a pretty boy and had to touch him.” 

_ “You're _ a pretty boy,” Eddie retorts, half out of his mind from the way Richie is touching him. He's never been so drunk on a moment. “You don't see me pawing all over you, though.” 

“A shame, really,” Richie huffs, his breath hot across the slick skin of Eddie's dick. He wraps his lips around Eddie and sinks down again, taking even more of him this time in a way that quickly makes Eddie a liar as his hands fly to Richie's head. 

Eddie finds the little elastic with his fingers, tugging at it and holding Richie by it for a moment. He wonders for a second if tying his hair up is something Richie always does for sex, and decides a beat later that he would be more than okay with that. 

Then, Richie is licking a swirling pattern over his shaft as he sinks down again and Eddie's mind becomes a pleasant haze of nothing. 

He can't believe the way his body responds to Richie. Eddie has had this exact same thing done to him before, but never like this. At least, it's never felt like this before, but that could just be because his every nerve ending becomes a lit Roman candle when Richie is touching him, ready to explode. 

“Love it so much, Rich,” he babbles. Richie holds him down by his hips as he drags his mouth messily up and back down, sucking and licking and turning Eddie into a disaster that can barely form a coherent sentence. “Want it, want  _ you.”  _

“Want you too, Eds,” Richie says, and Eddie swears he can feel his breath everywhere. “Wanted you for so long. Can't believe you're here, letting me have you like this.” 

Eddie throws an arm over his closed eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. “Never want you to stop,” he confesses. It isn't just that it feels amazing. It's that he wants Richie - in every possible way - and fitting all of that need and desire and affection into a single moment just isn't possible. 

Richie reaches up to let his hands roam up Eddie's sides again, then down his arms. He laces his fingers with Eddie's on both hands, and for some reason the fact that Eddie can feel the drying slickness of Richie's fingers that have been wrapped around his cock is insanely hot. 

Clearly he's not entirely in his right mind. 

Richie squeezes Eddie's hands tight and pulls him forward by them, pulls him up to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“Want you closer,” Richie explains, getting right back to work. He licks a long, hot stripe up the underside of Eddie's cock, dragging it slowly around the head before he licks back down again. Eddie's breath leaves his lungs entirely when Richie whispers against the tender skin at the base of his cock, “Want to take you deeper.” 

Eddie obliges him, leaning back on his outspread hands just enough that Richie has room to really sink down like he wants. He does just that, too, lips stretched wide as he leads with his tongue, relaxing his throat and swallowing around the head of Eddie's cock. 

“Shit, Rich!” Eddie whimpers, jumping slightly at the feeling. Richie pulls back and looks up at him, eyes searching. “Sorry, sorry,” Eddie breathes, collecting himself. “Just really fucking good.” 

Richie grins, his lips shining obscenely. Eddie has the sudden urge to kiss them despite where they've been, but Richie is single-minded in his pursuit of Eddie's pleasure. 

That alone is a turn on. 

He returns to his job of rendering Eddie a stammering mess, humming approvingly when Eddie's hand returns to his hair. When Eddie's fingers find their way down the side of Richie's face to wrap around his cock - hold it in place and watch the way Richie's lips nearly touch them as he swallows him down - Richie seems happy about that, too. 

Richie pulls back and opens his mouth, and for a second Eddie isn't sure what he wants. He lets the weight of his cock fall back onto Richie's tongue and is rewarded with a moan so filthy, he can't help but do it again, smacking it harder this time. 

“God, you like that, don't you?” he asks, more in awe than anything. Richie nods and lets himself be slapped - in the mouth, across the face, anywhere Eddie's cock can reach - and gives him a blissful sigh in response. 

“Love it,” Richie says, shameless. “Gonna be on my knees for it all the time, Eddie, I swear.” 

It's more than Eddie can handle. He tightens fingers around himself and strokes in earnest, wiping the other hand across Richie's mouth to collect the dripping wetness all over his face. He returns it to his cock and pumps that much faster. 

“Richie, Ri-Richie I'm-” is all Eddie manages before shoving at Richie just enough to sit him back on his knees, his mouth open obediently and eyelids heavy as Eddie strokes himself frantically to his end. 

The sight alone is enough to send Eddie over the edge, his come splattering across Richie's face in pretty patterns as he finishes. Richie grins like he's won something and Eddie groans, body still jerking like he's been shocked, but in a way he wants to chase for the rest of his fucking  _ life.  _

One of Richie's eyes is closed while the other peers up at Eddie from behind his slightly-crooked glasses, a thin rope of Eddie's come dangerously close to it. His mouth is swollen and spit-slick and red from where his lips were stretched around Eddie's cock and his grin is spreading lazily across his face and Eddie absolutely  _ adores _ him. 

Eddie slaps around for something for Richie to wipe his face on, coming up with a discarded hotel towel near the side of the bed. Richie reaches for it, laughing despite his breath still stuttering. 

“Best wiener I've ever had in my mouth,” he boasts, and Eddie throws the towel at him and falls back onto the bed with a very different kind of groan. 

—

Eddie does move in with Richie. Maybe he’s crazy. Maybe they’re just living out a stupid, childhood fantasy. Maybe it’s a mistake. 

But people move in with their best friends every day, Eddie rationalizes. They have roommates and friends they live with and it’s not weird. And even if it’s more than that, it still wouldn’t be weird. Because people do crazier things every day and Eddie finally feels happy for once in his adult life and damn it, he  _ deserves _ this. 

“Eds?” Richie asks, shaking him from his thought spiral. His hair is standing out at odd angles as he sweats from hauling boxes into their -  _ their _ \- new home and he’s looking back at Eddie with wide eyes and a careful smile and Eddie just  _ melts.  _

“Hey Rich,” he says, breathless despite standing in place for a while. His voice seems to reassure Richie, brings more confidence to his smile, and when he reaches for a hug Eddie lets himself be held despite how sweaty Richie is. 

“You stink,” Eddie says, even as he presses his lips to Richie’s. “You’re lucky lips don’t sweat or I wouldn’t kiss you.” 

“That’s no way to talk to the man who is breaking his back to set up our beautiful home, sir,” Richie chides. He’s grinning so wide Eddie isn’t sure how he manages to talk. 

“You’re going to break your back from that improper lifting form you have, not from any hard work,” Eddie tells him. He pushes Richie’s sweat dampened hair away from his face and wonders when that kind of shit became cute to him. 

God, he’s such an idiot when this man is involved. 

“Still can’t believe this place is ours,” he says, thoughts leaving his mouth almost of their own volition. “Still can’t believe I’m moving in with you.” 

“I know,” Richie beams. “You’re such a lucky bastard.” 

Eddie is broken from his trance long enough to punch Richie in the arm, sending him into a fit of giggles like Eddie hasn’t heard since their childhood. The thing is, he remembers them now. He remembers the way making Richie laugh made him feel - how it still does. 

He remembers that, for him, it’s always been Richie. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says. As soon as it leaves his mouth his whole body tenses. 

Richie blinks at him in response, eyes wide in disbelief, before his lopsided grin returns full-force and he sighs like a besotted teenager. 

“I love you too, Eds.” 

Eddie huffs through his nose, not even sure what a person is supposed to say in a moment like this. It wasn’t like this with Myra, or with anyone he dated before her. This feels so big, so important, and yet he feels like he’s doing it all wrong. 

“This is all out of order,” he says. Richie looks back at him, obviously confused. 

“We decided to move in together. We had sex.  _ Then _ I told you I loved you. We’ve still only been on one date, if you can even count that as a date. Are we dating? Are you my boyfriend? Are we just roommates that make out and tell each other they love each other? What the fuck is even going on?!” 

The words spill out of him at a mile a minute, giving voice to all the anxieties that have reared their head in the last few days. Richie waits, making sure Eddie has had time to speak his mind before he steps closer, offering arms to hold him with. 

Eddie falls into them with a frustrated sigh. 

“That’s. That’s a lot, Eddie,” Richie says, like it isn’t obvious. Eddie nods, leaning into Richie’s chest. Richie presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You know what, though? I think it’s fine.”

When Eddie looks up at him, almost angry with his dismissal, Richie strokes the pad of his thumb over Eddie’s cheek. 

“We don’t have to follow some kind of rule book. We fought a fucking demon clown, remember? Twice. We forgot our whole fucking childhood for like thirty years, and then got it back. You died, and then… you didn’t. Like, none of this makes sense and yet…  _ This _ does.” He pulls Eddie into another hug. “We make sense, at least to me. I don’t care if everything happens out of order. You’re here and you’re alive and you’re with me after all this time. You can call me whatever you want and I’ll take you on a thousand more dates and do whatever the hell you want, just… Stay here with me. That’s all I want.” 

Eddie nods again, breathing in the smell of Richie and loving the warmth of his body. He’s right; about all of it, really. Eddie just can’t think of the right thing to say in response. 

Instead, he pulls just far enough away to see Richie’s face and smiles.

“Is the bed in here yet?” 

—

Eddie actually makes Richie shower before they go near their bed. It’s brand new; Eddie chose it himself for the included hypoallergenic covering and “superior back support”. It’s already fitted with Eddie’s favorite set of pristine, white bed sheets and he will  _ not _ let Richie get sweat and dirt and whatever else on them. 

It helps that he agrees to shower with him. 

“You don’t have some fancy-ass soap for us to use before we’re allowed to touch the bed?” Richie teases him. Eddie prods him hard in the side. 

“Keep being an asshole and I won’t get in bed with you at all.” 

Richie sighs dramatically. “Eddie, my love, you wound me.” 

“Yeah, you look really hurt,” Eddie snorts. He wraps fingers around Richie’s hardening cock and gives him a few long, lazy pumps and then Richie is sighing in a whole different way. 

“Absolutely shattered,” he agrees. Eddie doesn’t humor him with much more, insisting instead that he focus on getting clean. Richie begrudgingly agrees, but he watches Eddie’s naked body the whole time. 

Or at least attempts to. 

“Can’t see you well enough right now and it’s pissing me off,” he complains. They step out of the shower one and a time and Eddie lends him a hand getting out. “Already missed out on enough.” 

“I think you’ll survive until we get to the bedroom,” Eddie smiles. Richie shakes his head like a dog and that smile turns into an irritated glare. 

“Hand me my glasses?” Richie asks, reaching blindly for the bathroom counter. Eddie obliges and tries not to grin too obviously when they instantly fog up on Richie’s face. Richie groans. “Aw, damn it.” 

Eddie steps into his space, relishing the way their warm, clean bodies feel pressed up against one another. “Like I said, I think you’ll survive.” He leans up to press a kiss to Richie’s lips but Richie stops him, turning to smack at the counter again. 

“Hang on, gotta get this mop out of the way,” he says, making quick work of tying his wet hair back in the same elastic he was wearing before showering. Before Eddie has a chance to tell him how gross he thinks that is - that hair tie really should be washed, too - Richie is pressing up against him again, backing him toward the wall. “Now, where were we?” 

“Somewhere around here,” Eddie says, already a little breathless. He’d like to say it’s from the hot shower, but he knows very well that all Richie has to do is tie his hair back and he’s halfway to losing his mind. 

Call it a Pavlovian response. 

Eddie reaches up to pull Richie even closer, pressing up against him chest to chest as he slides a hand over his neck and shoulder. 

“Right where I like to be,” Richie hums, then moves his own hands to hold Eddie’s face. He slots their mouths together, wasting no time in turning the kiss into something meaningful - promising. 

Eddie sighs into his mouth and curls fingers around his forearm, feeling the muscles twitch as Richie tenderly holds his face. 

They stay this way for a while, nowhere to be and nothing to do. Just two people who have waited far too long for the luxury of lingering in one another’s presence. Eddie feels lightheaded at the reality of it. 

When Richie moans into his mouth, hips rolling forward against him, Eddie’s eyes open, slow and lazy. 

“Love when I can feel you against me,” Richie explains, though he doesn’t have to. They’re both hard and Eddie can already see sweat beading on Richie’s forehead again, although he’s far more into it this time. 

“You too,” he tells Richie. He presses kisses to Richie’s bottom lip, his jaw, the soft skin beside his ear, then whispers there, “Now let’s go try out the bed.” 

In lieu of an answer Richie scoops Eddie up using the wall behind him to help hoist him. Eddie wraps legs around his waist, not bothering to protest. He enjoys the feeling of Richie’s strong hands wrapped under his thighs as he maneuvers them from one room to the next, all but tossing Eddie onto the bed once they reach the bedroom. 

“You think just because you’re built like a tank you can throw me around however you want?” Eddie asks, entirely without vitriol. He’s already crawling back to the edge of the bed to be close to Richie again. 

Richie huffs a laugh. “I don’t know about a tank. Maybe like a pickup truck. The kind that sit out in rednecks’ yards for too long.” He grins when Eddie puts his hands on him, climbing eagerly onto the bed beside him. “And I can definitely stop manhandling you if you want.” 

Pressing a kiss to Richie’s neck, Eddie hums. “Don’t you dare.” 

It’s a slow slide into one another’s space from there, Eddie letting one hand travel over Richie’s broad, strong shoulders, the other making its way down his chest, his stomach, and into the dip of his hip to trace patterns there before finally wrapping his fingers around Richie’s cock. 

It’s just about Eddie’s favorite way to be pressed against his boyfriend, except maybe when he’s pressed  _ beneath _ him. He’ll have both within the hour, if he’s lucky. 

“Love this,” Richie says, always great at giving voice to Eddie’s thoughts without the need to be asked. “Love having you here. Love being here with you.” 

“Don’t get sappy on me,” Eddie warns, though the warmth of Richie’s words really only stoke the flames of arousal tearing across Eddie’s body. He reaches up to take Richie’s glasses from his face, laying them carefully aside before returning that hand to his waist, bracing their bodies close together. Richie leans into him, an arm slung across Eddie’s narrow shoulders in return. 

“I’m always sappy,” Richie shrugs. “That or stupid. Choose your fighter, Kaspbrak.” 

Eddie snorts, kissing his collarbone. “I guess I’ll take sappy. Not a very good lineup.” 

Richie chuckles and leans in to kiss him properly, a slow, leisurely affair with a little tease of teeth against Eddie’s bottom lip. “Sorry, Eds. That’s all I have to offer.” 

“Mm, is it?” Eddie asks, tightening his grip on Richie’s cock. Richie inhales on a hiss and exhales on a shaky laugh. 

“Well, that too. That’s yours whenever you want it.” 

Eddie smirks. He isn’t sure how he ended up with this life and everything it’s brought with it, but that fact may be one of his favorite things about it. He bumps his nose against Richie’s and presses words into his lips, “How about now, then?” 

Using the power he likes to pretend he doesn’t have - at least long enough to convince Richie to throw him around a bit - Eddie pushes Richie back onto the bed. Before Richie can so much as get his bearings Eddie is urging his thighs apart, sinking between them and licking his way down and back up his length. 

“Eds,  _ fuck,”  _ Richie breathes, breath hitching slightly. “Not playing around today, are you?” 

“M’done playing,” Eddie tells him, looking up at him from between his legs. Richie frantically fumbles for his glasses, sliding them back onto his face. 

“Then at least let me see you,  _ shit.”  _

Eddie grants him that much, giving him a moment to straighten the glasses on his face before wrapping his lips around him again and sinking back down. 

Richie is always thoughtful when it comes to sex, always trying to keep Eddie from being overwhelmed. What he doesn’t understand, at least not fully, is that Eddie kind of likes when his need for Richie outweighs his common sense. 

It’s exactly why he sinks down further and faster than he’s strictly ready or able to and relishes the way it chokes him. 

“Eddie,” Richie begins, probably to tell him not to overexert himself. But his words catch in his throat when Eddie’s tightens around the head of his cock. 

Eddie’s eyes begin to water, his mouth watering to match. He drags the wetness over Richie’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head the way Richie does for him. Before Richie, Eddie never really thought much about being with a man. Now there’s hardly an hour that passes that he doesn’t at least passively wish for the heat, the weight, the  _ taste _ of Richie’s cock on his tongue. 

“So good, Eds,” Richie murmurs. “Just like that.” 

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, loving the way it lights Richie’s whole body up when his voice vibrates down his length. Eddie gathers some of the slickness pouring down over his lips and chin to slide fingers lower, pressing gently at Richie’s entrance. 

Richie doesn’t have to be asked. He lifts his hips, lays back further and spreads his legs wider, moaning long and low as Eddie presses a single finger inside. 

Richie hasn’t bottomed yet; they just haven’t gotten that far. But he loves being touched this way, and  _ God, _ Eddie loves giving him anything that drags those pretty noises out of him. 

“Yeah, more Eddie, more a’that, please.” Richie’s head is beginning to fall back, mouth open and soft, panting breaths leaving him as he whispers praises and curses in equal turns. Eddie stops for a moment to grab lubricant from an overnight bag stashed beneath the bed, then does as he’s asked and slides a second finger into him - and then, a moment later, a third. 

“Might just lay here and let you do this to me all day,” Richie threatens. Eddie huffs, pulling off of him with a long, slow swipe of his tongue before shaking his head. 

“I don’t think so, sir. I’ve got plans for this.” He wraps fingers around Richie’s cock and strokes, collecting the gathered wetness there as he goes. He adds lubricant to the mess, then looks around for somewhere to wipe the excess. Growing desperate, Richie grabs his hands and wipes them down his own chest and sides, making Eddie laugh. 

“Sorry,” Richie laughs, breathless. “Just wanted to expedite your plans.” 

Eddie nods. “Seems like it. You ready for me?” 

Richie regains a scrap of his usual composure and gives Eddie a dark, amorous look edged with playful humor. “The real question is are you ready for me, Eds?” 

“Why don’t you get me there?” Eddie asks, voice saccharine sweet. He hands over the bottle of lube and climbs up to straddle Richie’s hips. Richie dumps what looks like half a bottle over his fingers and nods. 

The way Eddie’s legs are splayed open, it’s easy for Richie to spread the slickness across his entrance, circling his rim only once or twice before sliding into him. Normally he would take his time, really be careful. But Eddie has him too worked up for his usual measure of caution - and Eddie likes him that way. 

“That’s it,” Richie croons, urging Eddie’s legs apart further still. When Eddie begins to rock back again this hand, he adds a second finger. “Gonna fill you up, pretty boy.” 

“Mm, know you are,” Eddie nods, leaning down to crowd himself into Richie’s chest, hands finding their way up to his neck, the side of his face. Richie stops long enough to kiss him, then returns to his task of working Eddie open, sliding a third finger in alongside the others. 

Eddie whines, always caught just a little off guard by how incredible this part feels. When Richie teases his rim with his little finger, Eddie rocks back against him, whimpering shamelessly. 

“No more,” he says, and for a moment Richie looks up at him with panic in his eyes. “M’ready,” Eddie clarifies, scooting his hips lower to press the slick cleft of his ass against Richie’s cock. “I’m ready, Rich, come on.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie agrees, nodding. He holds one of Eddie’s hands, the other hand gripping his hip as Eddie rolls his hips back against him a few more times and then raises himself up to line Richie’s cock up with his entrance. 

The slide is slow and achingly sweet, just enough burn from the stretch to have Eddie hissing before he lets his head fall back entirely. 

“God, Rich, it’s so fucking good,” he sighs. Richie watches him, eyes heavy and hair falling out of place despite his efforts to control it. He doesn’t move - letting Eddie adjust and linger in the feeling of just being full - but it doesn’t stop his hands from roaming. 

_ “You’re _ so fucking good, Eds,” he breathes, thumbing over one of Eddie’s nipples with one hand and sliding down over his backside with the other. “Look so good on my dick.” 

“Thank God,” Eddie laughs, and rocks his hips just enough to feel Richie that much deeper. “S’where I like to be.” 

“You can sit on this dick any time, Eds,” Richie promises. He grabs a handful of Eddie’s ass, letting go only to land a gentle slap against the skin. “Fucking gorgeous ass, beautiful like this.” 

The way they talk to one another quickly devolves once Eddie begins lifting and dropping his hips in earnest, sentences shorter and words breathier as they lose themselves in one another. Sex has never been like this before and Eddie never wants it any other way. 

“Love you,” he breathes, because he’s allowed to say it now and he’s overwhelmed with the need to. “Love you so much, Richie.” 

“Love you too, Eds. My Eddie. Mine.” He punctuates each thought with a gentle cant of his hips that has Eddie bouncing in his lap. Eddie moans, taking his hands and lacing fingers with Richie’s as he leans back, pressing his hips harder into Richie’s. 

“Yours,” he agrees. He’s still hardly able to believe it, so he says it, just to remind himself. “Yours, yours, always yours.” 

The angle of Richie’s cock changes as he shifts them slightly, and Eddie has to gasp, to hold his breath to keep from howling. It only took them a few times to figure out that he likes it this way, loves being able to feel all of Richie deep inside him, to feel stuffed full and  _ stuck _ on his cock. 

Richie loves it too, watching Eddie fall apart. He lets go of Eddie’s hands, slides his own down over Eddie’s hips and uses the leverage he has there to help Eddie’s rocking, bouncing little movements. 

“Eds, I’m not gonna last. I’m - Watching you like this - I can’t-”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but cuts Richie off by guiding his hand to his leaking, neglected cock. Richie gets right to work, pumping him in time with their movements as best he can. 

“Oh, fuck, Rich, yes,  _ yesss,”  _ Eddie hisses, right on the edge. It’s the way Richie moans his name, broken and beautiful and so damn  _ fond _ that finally topples him over. 

“Eddie,  _ baby.”  _

Eddie is fairly certain that he lets out some kind of inhuman wail when he comes, hot across Richie’s fingers, arm and chest. Whatever it is works for Richie, though, as he’s holding Eddie’s hips hard against his a second later and trembling beneath him. 

The collapse against Richie’s chest is a slow one, with Eddie easing himself forward on hands that walk their way up Richie’s body. Richie slings his own arms much less gracefully over Eddie’s back and holds him, both of them chasing their breath for a moment before the rumble of his voice breaks the silence. 

“Holy shit, Eds. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Says you,” Eddie snorts. “You just made me come like a shotgun.” He tries not to think of the splatters of it that are drying on his skin even now as he’s pressed to Richie’s chest. They’re going to have to shower. Again. 

Richie laughs too. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I could come just from looking at you.” 

“We’ll rest out that hypothesis some time,” Eddie huffs, pressing a kiss to Richie’s chin. “But I really prefer for you to touch me.” 

“You feeling pretty touched right now?” he grins. Eddie pinches his nipple in retailiation, laughing when Richie tries to wriggle out from under him. 

“Come on, Eds, you’re heavy,” he complains. Eddie clicks his tongue, shaking his head even as he rolls off to the side. 

“You’re like twice my size.” 

“Yeah, but you’re, like, all muscle. Like a compact little brute.” 

“Nice,” Eddie snickers. “Makes me feel very sexy.” 

“Hey, I’m extremely into it,” Richie says honestly. He pulls Eddie against his side, kissing the top of his head. “You’re pretty, too. Somehow both, at the same time.” 

“Not too pretty right now,” Eddie grimaces, looking down at himself, covered in sweat and come and leftover lube. “I need another shower.” 

“Very pretty,” Richie argues. He rolls over. “You shower all you want to. I’m gonna sleep.” 

Eddie pokes him in the side just to hear him grumble. 

“We’ve got all night to sleep, Rich. Let’s go get rinsed off first.” 

But Richie is already snoring. For once, Eddie doesn’t push the issue. He grabs for a pack of wet wipes stashed in his bag under the bed and does his best to wipe himself off, conceding defeat. 

He sleeps better that night - in his brand new bed in their brand new home - than he thinks he probably ever has. 

—

“You got more begonias?” Eddie asks, holding a pitcher of iced tea and looking over the haul Richie unpacks from the little home improvement store down the road. There are tools they’ll never use, a large, brightly colored umbrella for their garden table, and more flowers. Eddie sighs. “We’ll have to put them in hanging baskets.” 

“I trust your judgement,” Richie chuckles, gingerly setting the pots of flowers on the porch. Eddie looks at them, running his fingers through the waxy clusters of pink and violet blooms, and shakes his head. 

“Well, I don’t trust yours. You’ve brought home flowers every day this week.” 

“Sorry, I can’t help it. I think of you and the urge to buy beautiful flowers is just too great.” He looks overly solemn, dramatically contrite, totally ridiculous. God, Eddie loves him. 

“Yeah, well. As precious as that may be, now we have to take care of all of these. Didn’t think about that shit, did you?” 

Richie bends down to mime covering ears that the flowers don’t have. “Edward, how could you? These are our children! By the way, what should we name them? I’m thinking Oswald for this one. Maybe Kathleen for this one over here.” 

“Those sound like friends of your parents,” Eddie snorts, finally giving in to the way Richie affects him. He picks up one of the pots and looks it over. “Besides, this one is definitely named Meredith.” 

“Meredith it is,” Richie concedes. He pulls Eddie toward him by his belt loops and hugs him like they haven’t been together most of the day. It’s the way Richie always hugs him, like he’s making up for lost time. 

Eddie hums, content. 

“When you inevitably go back to that store tomorrow, get me some hanging basket planters.” 

Richie nods, kissing his forehead. 

“As you wish, my love.” 

He wanders off after that, pouring himself a glass of tea before collapsing with a sigh onto their porch swing. Though Richie might think nothing of it, Eddie can’t help but linger in the moment. For all of their teasing, for all of Richie’s big talk and bravado when they were younger, they’re finally here. They’re really naming potted plants and discussing the finer points of flower gardens and drinking tea on the little front porch of their house -  _ their _ fucking house. 

Eddie has to stand there a while, letting the scene around him wash over him in waves before he can really believe it. 

—

“Richie, I have to be up in like two hours,” Eddie groans. 

It's just before five o'clock in the morning, three months after their move. They've settled in; their belongings are all neatly tucked away, or at least Eddie's are. They have new jobs within driving distance of Derry and have successfully remembered all four places there are to grab meals within the city limits. They eat at their own dinner table, watch television on their couch, and sleep together in  _ their _ bed. 

Everything feels like home, more than it ever has, anywhere, at any point in Eddie's life. 

Right this moment, though, Richie is prodding him awake, rolling his hips and his hardness against Eddie's backside and biting at his shoulder. Eddie hums as he stretches. 

“You don't care at all, do you?” he asks. There is probably too much fondness in his voice, but it's hard for him to quench it entirely when Richie is involved. He reaches back, over his shoulder to tangle fingers in Richie's hair. 

“S’not that I don't care,” Richie argues. His voice is deep and thick with sleep. Eddie shivers against him. “It's just that how much I want your ass outweighs my ability to think rationally.” 

“Mhm. Is that your excuse all the time?” Eddie says flatly, though he's already turning just enough to wrap fingers around Richie’s cock. Richie gives a rumbling, pleased little hum and presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

“I mean… Most of the time, yeah. Have you seen your ass, baby?” He grabs ahold of the swell of Eddie's ass and squeezes for emphasis. Eddie gasps in spite of himself. 

“A couple of times, yeah,” he retorts. “You thinking of doing something with it, or are you just gonna tease me all night,  _ baby?” _ He draws out the last word, teasing Richie just a little. Richie doesn't use pet names - mostly because they aren't Eddie's thing - except for certain situations. And now, at the sublime intersection of sleepy, sappy, and horny, is one of those occasions. 

Richie doesn't need any more goading. He hooks fingers into the waistband of the shorts Eddie has been sleeping in and peels them down, slapping Eddie's bare ass and hissing along with him at the feeling. If there's one thing Eddie doesn't understand, it's how Richie can find something so ordinary so sexy. 

But, then, it's not something he would ever complain about. 

“Let's see what we have to work with, here,” Richie says, a distinct roughness edging into his tone. He traces a finger down the cleft of Eddie's ass, circling his entrance before easily pushing past his rim. Eddie doesn't bother quieting the broken whine that escapes him. 

“Still sensitive from last night,” he warns, although he pushes back against Richie's finger inside him. Richie adds a second, more carefully this time. 

“Mhm. And still so open for me,” he croons, nipping at Eddie's ear. He works him open for a few long, slow minutes before withdrawing his fingers to retrieve the lubricant from his bedside table. 

“A lot,” Eddie requests. Richie hums his agreement. 

“Of course, Eds.” Eddie hears the snap of the lid opening, the sound of Richie slicking himself up, the shift of the bed as he settles behind Eddie again. “Now, lift up.” 

Richie lifts Eddie's leg at the thigh to give himself enough room to move right up behind him, then lines himself up and slowly sinks into him. 

“Mmm, fuck,” Eddie sighs, loving the way it fills and stretches him, just this side of too much after being fucked just the night before. Richie groans, stilling for a moment to let him adjust. 

“I'll say. You always feel so fucking good, Eds. Like you were made for me.” 

“Maybe I was,” Eddie muses, tired and turned on and loving every second of life he lives with Richie beside him. “Made for this.” 

“God, I think you were,” Richie agrees. He rocks his hips, slowly at first, only stepping up the pace when Eddie starts telling him to in stuttered, breathy little commands. 

“Anything you want,” Richie tells him, kissing his shoulder, the back of his neck. Eddie whines, higher in his throat this time as Richie sets a pace that lets him fuck Eddie deeper, hold his hips tighter as he moves. 

“Want you,” Eddie tells him. “Want you every goddamn day of my life, Richie, please.” 

“Fuck, me too, Eds,” Richie breathes, hot across Eddie's ear. He leans his head against the back of Eddie's and begins to lose his rhythm. Thankfully, Eddie is equally close. 

“Never want anyone else, wanna wake up in this bed with you every day, just like this,” he says, which he will absolutely deny later. He wraps fingers around his cock and pumps, chasing his end in time with Richie. 

Behind him, Richie grows erratic and sloppy in his thrusts, hitting Eddie deeper and deeper with each one. “Love you so much, Eddie. Love you, love you,  _ fuck,  _ love you, wanna  _ marry _ you.” 

Eddie's breath catches as he hears the last few words. His body jolts and he comes hard across the sheets, careless of where it lands. Richie gives a choked off little sob at the sight and he slams into him, stilling for a long moment as his body is wracked with shivers that mirror Eddie's trembling. 

Eddie turns and grabs his face hard, kissing him as they ride it out, regardless of the odd angle. 

When they finally part, both of their chests heaving, Richie holds Eddie like something breakable as he gently pulls out, using God-knows-what discarded piece of clothing to haphazardly wipe him off. 

They lie together for a moment, neither too keen to move, until Richie finally heaves a sigh and chuckles. 

“Well, shit. That last thing was probably a little out of place,” he says, a sheepish grin splitting his face so wide that Eddie can see it sparkle even in the low light of their predawn room. “Was planning on, like. Talking to you about that later. In a more acceptable setting. And maybe with a ring.” 

“I don't need a ring,” Eddie argues, though just the thought that Richie had considered it has his heart squeezing in his chest. “I could use a few more hours of sleep, though. And maybe breakfast.” 

“Oh, I can do that,” Richie promises. “Breakfast, at least. It's already nearly six, though.” 

Eddie sighs. “I'll be mad at you later.” 

He won't. Not really. Sure, maybe he will complain that Richie should have let him rest before work or that Richie could have waited until he was already awake to ask for sex. He will probably also have something to say about Richie's half-ass marriage proposal when he really thinks about it, and the fact that they are once again doing things by their own, entirely nonsensical sets of rules. 

But for now, none of it matters. 

For the moment, Eddie is content to lie beside the love of his life, still barely believing that's a thing that he has the privilege of doing. For now, he's glad to listen to Richie's post-sex chatter, smiling sleepily when he says something ridiculous. For today, he's happy to snooze the alarm just for a few more minutes in bed beside him. 

Right this minute, Eddie wouldn't change a thing. 

Outside the window, the sun rises over the little yellow house. 


End file.
